


In Orbit

by futurelounging



Series: FuLo's Other Outlander Tales [3]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Queerlander, let john grey have the love of his life, mlm, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurelounging/pseuds/futurelounging
Summary: A friends-to-lovers story of Jamie and John. Claire is Jamie's best friend. These stories will be snippets of their lives, from the sad to the joyous and everything in between.





	1. Chapter 1

“Can I ask you a…-”

“...a…?”

“Whatsit called...right, a question.”

“Oh, aye. Answering questions from drunk Claire is my favorite game.”

Claire sloppily licked her lips and winked at Jamie, not her sexiest look. “Have you... ever been… in love?”

It should have felt easy and silly, like everything else between them. Instead his skin flushed and heated. Would diving under the table be acceptable? His cat, Adso, would retreat into the depths of Jamie’s closet, burrowing under his old university sweatshirts whenever he brought out the cat carrier, a sure signal that a trip to the vet was imminent. There was only an empty glass before him. No sweatshirts for burrowing. “Maybe?”

She shook her head slowly. “Your honor, I object. The defendant’s non-committal, evasive, and frankly, chickenshit answer is, I contend, wholly disingenuous. Sustained!” She downed the rest of her drink and locked eyes with him.

“Claire.” He meant it as a warning, but it sounded more like a plea as he said it, his voice cracking. God, he was a mess. 

“I can see it, plain as day, Jamie.”

“I canna risk losing my best friend. I just…” His throat constricted. Every night for the last three months he’d been playing this out in his head. How had things changed? There was always an attraction, but neither was available when they first met so it was shelved, another of life’s mistimings. Then the break-up three months ago sent everything into a tailspin. The desire he thought he’d left in the past came roaring back and he suddenly found himself nervous to be in the same room.

“Jamie, don’t you see? Don’t you know how amazing it is to fall in love with your best friend? Are you worried you might enjoy yourself too much? All that happiness just a little too perfect for the story you’ve written?”

“I’m terrified.”

“I know. I’m terrified every day.”

He reached his hand across the table and cupped her cheek, warm and a little sticky from an errant shot of whisky earlier in the night. She leaned into his hand and smiled. “It canna go on like this, I ken that,” he admitted solemnly.

“John looks at you the same way you look at him. Like you hung the moon. And you’re both spinning around, slipping in and out of each other’s orbits, wondering why you keep feeling that pull.”

The Glasgow evening had turned damp and still, a heavy fog clinging to the stones underfoot. Claire hung drowsily on Jamie’s arm as he deposited her on the steps of her flat. “Promise me ye’ll not throw up in yer sleep? Drink lots of water and take some Ibuprofen?”

“Yes, sweet worrying man. And you promise me you’ll go to John and trust him with your heart?”

“No promises, Sassenach.”

She sighed and kissed his cheek, mouthing “go” to him as she turned up the stairs.

Jamie spun on his heels and headed toward his place. The streetlights glowed in the mist and he imagined each one a little checkpoint as he passed. His heart grew lighter with each step and without realizing it, he found himself at the door to John’s building. Someone had wedged a rock in the interior door, as was often the case, so he slipped through and ascended the two floors.

He didn’t let himself hesitate at the door, knocking sharply three times. _“Hey, I just really wanted to see ye… I was just thinking about us… I was wonderin’ if ye thought we might be more…”_ The lines played through his mind as he waited. And waited. He knocked again, quietly speaking against the door. “John, it’s Jamie.” The minutes ticked by and he felt his heart clench. His stomach rolled, nauseous with shame.

_What are ye thinkin? He’s out wi’ someone. No’ waitin’ alone in his flat for ye to show up and sweep him off his feet like some goddamned movie._

The mist turned to rain during his walk home and he was shivering by the time he closed the door behind him. Adso arched and rubbed against his leg and quickly thought the better of it after feeling the water-soaked jeans. Jamie peeled his clothes off and threw on an old t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. And, just as he’d advised Claire, filled his water bottle and popped a few Ibuprofen to save him in the morning.

Jamie pushed an extra pillow under his head and settled in for the night. Adso took his usual spot, pressed against Jamie’s hip. He unlocked his phone and turned off the light and stared helplessly at the background of his homescreen. He and John, posing ridiculously atop a mountain. The phone fell from his grasp and he squeezed his eyes shut, trapping the tears. _Why was this so hard?_

* * *

 

Jamie had left his flat focused, at peace with the failure of the night before. He had too much work to do in any case. Two new conservation project kickoff meetings in one day would eat up any free time.

It had been a decidedly terrible idea to let Claire talk him into drinks last night. She had a way of cajoling him into imbibing excessively on work nights. Perhaps if she didn’t have such a ridiculous schedule at the hospital, he wouldn’t feel compelled to take her up on her every request.

He passed the day with three coffees (one too many), twisting back and forth in conference room chairs, a laptop with a flickering screen that drove him mad, and a panicked coworker who had somehow lost a substantial donation check for their general fund.

By mid-afternoon his eyelids began to droop, and his thoughts turned inward. He hadn’t texted John. Hadn’t heard from him either, which was a bit unusual. They rarely went a day without a few obnoxious texts. John sent teasing barbs. Jamie sent awkward selfies. He didn’t have it in him to manage a selfie today.

His thumb hovered over the phone’s keyboard for a moment, uncertain of what to say.

_Sleeping one off today?_

Three dots immediately appeared on the screen, but no response arrived. Two minutes passed, and Jamie began to feel uneasy. He’d try once more. Suddenly his phone screen lit up with John’s contact avatar.

_Christ, a phone call. That’s not good._

“John, hey.”

Silence greeted him, interrupted by John’s shaky breath.

“John, are ye okay?”

John cleared his throat and answered, “I’m, uh, I’m at the hospital in Sheffield. My…”

Jamie’s body tensed as John’s voice broke. “What happened, John?”

“My father, uh he, he was on the M1 and I don’t really know what happened. He didn’t… didn’t make it, so I’m here. But he didn’t make it, Jamie.”

Tears stung Jamie’s eyes as he heard his friend’s voice shatter. He’d lost his own father during his first year of college, and had hidden away from everyone, unable to face that kind of misery. He had slowly worked through it, eventually confiding in Claire, solidifying their friendship into something stronger than usual.

The pain John was feeling echoed in his own chest and he choked on his words. “God, John. I’m so sorry. I’ll come down tonight if ye’d like. I want to. Can I bring ye anything?”

John took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I need my suit for the funeral if you wouldn’t mind. I’ll be at my par-... at my mother’s house.”

Jamie drifted through John’s apartment, surprising himself with just how well he knew where everything would be. He zipped John’s suit into the bag with his own, chest to back. He texted his friend Rupert with instructions for Adso and sent another quick one to Claire, though she was likely just starting her shift.

The train lulled him to sleep, pressing dreams behind his eyes. John hiked ahead of him, playfully jumping over small rocks and standing atop small boulders triumphantly. But any time Jamie neared him, he leapt ahead, just out of a reach.

John’s mother, Benedicta, met him at the door, watching for him in the tall front windows. It was late, and the streets were still. Her face was slack, weary from tears. “It’s so good of you to come, Jamie. You’re a very dear friend to John.”

Her frame was so thin and weak in his arms; he felt as if he was holding her up. “I am so sorry.”

She gathered herself, ever regal, and motioned for him to join John upstairs.

The guest room door was ajar, and he could see John through the opening, slumped forward on the bed, staring at the Persian rug under his bare feet, the lamplight shadowing his face. His head tilted up slightly at Jamie’s appearance, and he took him in slowly, pulling his mind from the dark recesses.

“Jamie. You’re here.”

“John.”

Jamie dropped the bags inside the door and stood before John, his hand extended for him to take hold should he wish. John reached out and wrapped his fingers around Jamie’s and pulled himself up. He made no move, but Jamie pulled him against his chest and held him. Slowly John’s arms moved up his back, grasping the fabric of Jamie’s shirt around his shoulders. He then quietly fell apart.

In the morning they woke in a cloud of each other’s warmth, chest to back, Jamie’s hand cradled against John’s heart. Slowly John turned to his back and glanced over at Jamie’s sleepy face, a crooked smile pushed against the pillow, his hair standing on end. “Thank you.”

They drifted quietly through the house that day, John arranging flowers people delivered, Jamie cooking meals for no one, John stopping short of his mother’s bedroom so as not to see his father’s slippers peeking out from the edge of the bed.

Benedicta held her emotions tightly against her chest, quivering under the surface, but never falling apart. “We need to get one of your father’s suits for the service. He needs a suit.”

Jamie rose from the table and held his hand to John’s shoulder to still him. “I’ll get it.”

John’s older brother Hal, spoke solemnly and reverently at the funeral, and John followed suit, his voice steady. He’d turned the words into symbols, turned their meaning to dust and brushed it into a bin. This moment was not for him or his sorrow. It was his father’s moment and he’d have hated it. There was no right way to have a funeral.

Jamie’s eyes held him carefully, John’s body an eggshell with hairline cracks. The tiniest pressure would drain him.

Before they left, John’s mother gave him his father’s pocket watch and his palm gripped it until it left grooves in his skin.

They spoke of Jamie’s new projects on the train ride home. They counted bird species and bought candy bars they’d not had since they were children. They found a newspaper with an unfinished crossword puzzle and pressed their temples together as they completed it. They spoke into each other’s ears of transportation funding and whether or not they could achieve a home-cooked curry to rival their favorite curry house (doubtful). When they neared the city and the words slowed to intermittent observations, John’s hand found Jamie’s and their warm palms pressed another truth between them.

It is not always the urgent demands of romantic pursuit that pull two souls into one orbit. Sometimes it is the broken cries of grief or the heart’s anxious whispers looking for a sympathetic soul to share the simplest of life’s moments. They had circled around one another for so long, memorizing one another's quirks and foibles, preferences and proclivities. When it was time to finally turn together, toward one another sharing the same trajectory, Jamie and John felt as though they'd finally found the path toward home.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and John's relationship progresses

“We’re doing this backward, you know.” John nudged the bureau drawer shut with his hip.

“How so? How do _you_ fold a shirt then? I think I’m doing a verra fine job of it.” Jamie feigned outrage and resumed folding.

“Not folding. I could not ask for a better laundress.” That remark earned him a sock in his face. “Nnn...no, I mean,” John stuttered through his laughter, “I mean you’re here doing my laundry and you’ve already claimed a side of the bed and well…”

“Well?” Jamie leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows.

John fidgeted in front of him, pressing smooth non-existent creases on the pile of t-shirts. His eyes met Jamie’s tentatively. “You know.”

Jamie pushed himself back up and smiled meekly. “I came here the night before ye called me from Sheffield.”

John sat next to him and turned his head, a curious arch to his brow. “Why?”

“To tell ye that I cared for ye. That I wanted more…” Jamie’s voice trailed off and his skin flushed. “I didna ken the words to use that night and it seems I’ve no’ yet worked them out.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands in his lap, embarrassed.

John’s cool hand slipped over Jamie’s and he twined their fingers. “God, I wish I’d been here,” he rasped, suddenly emotional thinking of the brave declaration Jamie was willing to make. How cowardly he felt for not having done it first. “I might have fainted though. A beautiful man shows up at my door with romantic declarations...yes, I’m quite certain I’d have fainted.”

Jamie shifted his body to face John and brought his hand to John’s cheek, turning his head toward his own. Their breaths warmed the air between them, the easy domesticity of moments before gave way to crackling desire and fluttering emotions. “And now?” Jamie whispered.

John caught his whisper and volleyed it back. “Try me.”

Jamie’s eyes darted to John’s mouth as his tongue wet his lips. Voice shaking slightly, he said, “ _You_ are my dearest friend, John. And somewhere along the way I found myself wishing ye’d not leave when the credits rolled. I’d see ye at the cafe and imagine sliding into the booth next to ye, kissing ye right there below yer ear. Feelin’ ye shivering under my mouth like ye are now just imagining it.”

John bit his own lip nervously. “Would you have kissed me then, after telling me how you feel?”

“No,” Jamie breathed shakily.

“No?”

“Not unless I had no doubt as to yer feelings as well, that ye wanted me the same.”

John ran his palm up Jamie’s arm, leaving a trail of bumps, then over his muscled shoulder and grasped the warm skin of his neck. His fingers weaved through Jamie’s hair. “I can’t recall a day since we’ve met that I haven’t wanted you. But I know exactly when I fell in love with you.”

The space between them diminished until the tips of their noses brushed.

“When was that?” Jamie whispered, his breath tickling John’s cheek.

“Every day. Every day I think I love you more.” John sighed, all the tension of holding that inside him released into the air. “Will you kiss me now?”

Jamie answered with a tilt of his head, his lips meeting John’s in a warm exhalation. This kiss was not a question or a beginning. It was a searing remembrance of inside jokes and knowing looks, of the flutter of disappointment upon meeting each other realizing they were unavailable. It was a sunbeam illuminating the clutter of their lives intertwined. It was their future laid bare on skin and breath.

When at last they pulled away, lips bruised and chests heaving, their eyes met shimmering and bright.

* * *

 

“Listen, I asked for details and you have given me a description of the type of clothes you were folding and whether or not you think John owns too many white t-shirts, but you have not described THE KISS. Just put yourself in my shoes for a moment and imagine my frustration.”

Claire leaned over the counter and grabbed a couple julienned carrots, earning her a slap on the hand from Jamie. “Stop eatin’ all my hard work for a moment, will ye?” He scooped the chopped chicken into a bowl of marinade.

“Tell me more or I’ll throw everything you’ve chopped into my mouth right now.”

“Have they revised the whole ‘salmonella is bad for you’ stance in the world of medicine?” Jamie shook his head and did his best to ignore her, but he could feel her resolve setting in by the second.

“Tell me now before John gets back. You know he’s too shy to tell it.”

Jamie set down the knife and rinsed his hands in the sink. She’d won and she knew it.

“It was not like any other kiss. I had thought about it more than a few times when I realized what he meant to me. What it might be like. And it was impossible to imagine. I didna think it would be so...fierce. But I think when the moment came, we both wanted to claim something of each other. To leave no doubts. This wasna a maybe, ye ken? No’ after what we’d been through together.”

Jamie made a small noise at the back of his throat and shifted his feet, his eyes losing focus. “I dinna ken what else to tell ye. Kissing John was like... kissing John.”

He’d lost himself describing it, his vision narrowing to the light glinting off the edge of his wine glass. His eyes met Claire’s and he was surprised to see them glistening.

“You’re terribly beautiful when you’re in love.” She smiled at him, her brown curls falling over her cheek. “Do you have any idea how happy I am for you, Jamie? I’ve hoped for so long that you’d find something like this. ”

He removed his apron and walked around the counter to her, pulling her into his arms and dropping a kiss on her hair. “Thank you. You know I want the same for you, too. You deserve a love to call your own.”

A key turning the deadbolt announced John and Joe’s arrival and Claire padded off to the bathroom to clean up her face. Jamie turned down the hall to the entry and greeted John with a kiss and Joe with a hug. “Perfect timing. I was worried ye’d be late.”

John hung his coat and ran a hand through his hair, damp from the evening drizzle. “Barely avoided disaster by hopping off the train a stop early. You know how you can just tell it’s not running quite right and you’re going to be stranded soon? Well, we jumped off and hoofed it. So, a bit damp, but not late.”

Jamie tilted his head at Joe, trying to get a look at what he held under his arm. “Is that…?”

“Oh yes!” Joe exclaimed. “I brought Twister!”

“Christ.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Jamie, and Claire go camping. There's hiking and drinking and some verra naughty stories around the campfire. Enjoy this very silly addition to the In Orbit world!

“Ye’ll get water along the bottom if ye dinna pull it tighter.” Jamie’s head tilted to the left, eyes skeptically watching Claire’s tent erection technique.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him and huffed. “I know perfectly well how to pitch a tent and I am not finished with it, as you can see, so please keep your unwelcome critique to yourself.” She barely contained her laugh at his exaggerated expression of shock. “You know, just because you _can_ push someone’s buttons does not mean you _should_.”

John crawled out of their tent and spun around to lace up his boots. “ _Can_ and _should_ is a bit of a blurred line for Jamie.”

“I can see already ye both are conspiring against me, most likely because ye ken I’m the superior outdoorsman.” Jamie dared them to challenge.

John foolishly took the bait. “You know, I -”

“John,” Claire interrupted.

“Well, I -”

“You what, John? Do tell,” she smirked.

“I have seen… trees… in a city park… many times,” he trailed off, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Jamie shook his head, grinning.

“And I’ll have you know I always knew them to be trees. Just a natural understanding, a really soul-deep connection I have with nature, you see.”

Jamie’s laugh echoed through the clearing and he leaned down, grasping John’s face, kissing him soundly. “What would we do without yer natural connection?”

Claire finished pushing the fly’s stakes into the ground, brushing the dirt from her hands on her pants. She watched them grinning at each other and sighed, feeling a pang of regret that she had no one to playfully tease and then make up with a kiss. Jamie had insisted she’d not be a third wheel. They’d missed doing this - hiking and camping and remembering how to play as the weight of adult responsibilities multiplied each day.

After setting up camp, they went for a short hike, stopping to skip rocks in the loch. John kept a notepad of bird species, embarrassed by just how excited he was to add two he’d never seen before to his “spotted” list. Claire gathered bundles of herbs and discussed what she’d learned from a medicinal herb book she’d recently acquired. Jamie, fascinated by it, asked question after question. When John felt the matter had been discussed more than enough he declared the herb talk over. That earned him a crushed handful down the back of his pants.

Jamie insisted on being in charge of the fire, lest he feel his outdoorsman skills were going to waste. Claire and John prepared dinner, swatting away midges in the glow of dusk. After dinner, they stretched out next to the fire and passed around the flask, slowly succumbing to the buzz of the alcohol, while the heat from the embers made their limbs heavy.

Claire had launched into a particularly gruesome tale from the hospital that involved slipping in bodily fluids and knocking over a stack of clean linens in her attempts to right herself. “I was lying there, just limbs akimbo, I could feel it soaking through my scrubs, and all I could think of was the look people get on their faces when you tell them you’re a doctor and you can just see them imagining you all finely dressed with your stethoscope hung ‘round your neck, just deep in thought diagnosing someone, and here I am, apologizing to the staff that I’ve gotten what I hope is mostly just urine all over their linens and oh could you please help me up, I think I hurt my back.”

John’s face was in his hands as his entire body shook around him. Jamie had gone from laughing at Claire’s predicament to catching John’s contagious giggling. “Oh god, Sassenach, that’s got to be a top five embarrassing moment for ye.”

“Oh, top three for sure.” She shook her head and brushed her curls out of her face. “Okay, I can’t be the only one having ridiculous things happen to me lately. What about you two? Please tell me something horribly embarrassing so I can have a laugh at someone other than myself.”

John took a swig from the flask and looked at Jamie, shrugging. “I haven’t had anything.”

Jamie grasped the flask and pulled it from John’s lips, much to John’s dismay. “Have ye not?” A slight twitch of Jamie’s eyebrow and John’s face went red.

“No. Jamie. No, no, no. Absolutely not.” As adamant as he was to stop Jamie’s story, he couldn’t stop laughing himself at the thought of it. “Oh god, no.”

Claire slapped Jamie’s thigh and leaned into the snickering men. “I will never forgive either of you if you don’t tell me this story right now.”

John tilted his head back, staring at the stars through the trees, and sighed. “I am going into the tent. I will not be a part of this living nightmare.” He turned back to Jamie and glared at him, then leaned in for a kiss. “You are the worst.”

Jamie smiled at John as he retreated. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Claire settled next to him, legs crossed. “Okay, dish.”

Jamie cleared his throat, settling in to his favorite role of storyteller. “Weel, now it was just a few days past when I’d come home early from work, feelin’ very pleased about my plans. John and I were coming up on our three-month anniversary and I was going to surprise him with pasta and wine. Very high romance. I even put on some Debussy.”

“Oh, you pulled out all the stops,” Claire purred.

“Oh aye, quite serious I was. So, I was ready for him with the food and the wine and the music and well, I was looking forward to seeing him. He’s quite handsome if ye havena noticed.”

Claire’s brows rose. “I have. Swoon-worthy.”

“Oh, please,” John snorted from the tent.

“So I hear the door opening and there he is. Well, I canna help myself and as he sheds his coat and closes the door, I press him right up against the door and kiss him. Only I had more than kissing in mind, ye see.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling her this,” John’s muffled voice floated through the night air.

Jamie continued. “I quickly removed anything that was hindering my intentions and set to work. John seemed most pleased with the situation based on the wee noises -”

“I do not make wee noises!”

“Weel, be that as it may, things were progressing nicely until there was a knock at the door, some three inches behind John’s head.”

Claire’s hands flew to her face as she stifled a laugh. “Oh god, who was it?”

Another faint sound from the tent reached their ears. “I hate you both.”

Jamie cleared his throat and swallowed a laugh. “So John makes to push me away and answer it, but ye see, I was havin’ no such thing. Ye ken I like to see things through to their proper conclusions.”

Claire nodded vigorously. “Quite. It’s a very fine trait. I wish I could find someone like that.”

“I allow myself a momentary reprieve to shake my head and convey that we will no’ be stoppin’. John, of course, resigns himself. He kens how stubborn we Frasers are. Well, the person on the other side of the door proved rather stubborn as well. They keep knockin’. And then they announced themselves. And would ye believe it was dear Mrs. Fitz from across the hall? So she is on the other side saying ‘John dear, I saw ye come home a moment ago and I just wanted to share with you boys some fresh bannocks and some strawberry jam.’”

John yelled again from the tent. “It was blackcurrant jam, not strawberry!”

“Sorry, _blackcurrant_. And now John, bein’ a gentleman is tryin’ to answer her, and he’s breathlessly yelling, rushing his words together, “Oh just a moment, Mrs. Fitz, just I have to… Oh God… a moment please!’”

Claire fell forward, her entire body shaking with the kind of laughter that no longer makes a sound, but burns through oxygen until the muscles in your face begin to cramp.

“Now, I am feeling a bit of pressure here, so I double my efforts and am thankfully rewarded for it. And Mrs. Fitz never stopped jabberin’ away on the other side of that door.”  
  
“So did you answer the door eventually?” Claire asked.

“John did. I headed back to the kitchen to get the water boiling. So, he straightens his collar, and a few other bits of clothing, and opens the door with a cheery hello. She asked him if he was well, seeing as he looked so flushed, but I assured her he was quite well as I’d been taking good care of him.”

Claire threw her head back and had one final guffaw. “John, I’ll have you know, this is now my favorite story.”

John peeked his head out of the tent. “The bannocks and jam were really quite delicious.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and John head off for a weekend retreat and deal with some issues clouding their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Other Outlander Tales series, a friends-to-lovers story of Jamie and John.

“Have you seen my Kindle?” John shouted down the hallway from the bedroom. His query was met with silence, though he could hear a clattering in the kitchen. “Jamie!” No answer. He threw the daypack onto the bed in frustration and headed to the kitchen where he found Jamie washing his canteen. He waited until Jamie had turned off the tap and turned to John.

“Did ye say something?” Jamie casually replied, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

John released a harsh breath through his nose. “Yes. Have you seen my Kindle? It’s not where it should be.”

Jamie shrugged and headed to the sofa where he’d left his half-packed bag. “Dunno.”

John’s eyes followed him, his body rigid with annoyance. “You don’t know? Well, do try to think since I would not have left it anywhere except the bedside table and you have a habit of leaving things in the wrong place.”

Jamie flung his portable battery charger to the cushions and stared back at John, his ire rising. “Are ye serious? I havena touched it. And stop throwing a tantrum. We’ve got to get on the road if we’re to get there before dark.” Jamie turned his back again and continued packing.

John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling back and scanned the room. His eyes landed on the moleskin notebook on the table, the notebook he always took with him on trips to record bird species and other things that caught his eye. And beneath it, peeking out just a smidge, his Kindle. He’d brought them out in the morning so he wouldn’t forget them. And then he’d forgotten he’d done that.

John was aware, somewhere underneath the petty grievances, of the fear and anxiety churning up these outbursts, and still he felt helpless to stop them.

He grabbed the notebook and Kindle and tucked them under his arm, glancing over to Jamie who looked away, but had most certainly seen. Jamie scooped up his backpack and quickly headed for the bedroom while an apology died on John’s lips. It had been this way recently, both of them short with each other, quick to blame and slow to forgive.

* * *

 

Their two years of cohabitation had been mostly blissful with the occasional disgruntled glare for a towel left on the floor, a dishwasher loaded less efficiently than it could be, crumbs gathering on the countertop, attracting mice. They grumbled and then laughed about these things, falling into each other’s embrace with the joy of having someone to share their space.

After they married in a small ceremony atop a hill not far from Jamie’s family home, they found themselves to be another typical couple in the confines and routine of domesticity. Work, evenings reading or watching Netflix, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Weekend trips to the Highlands or coastal towns. A proper vacation to Spain when they realized they hadn’t taken a honeymoon. John got a seatbelt-shaped sunburn line when he took off his shirt as they drove along the Riviera and Jamie teased him incessantly until John gave him _the look_.

John’s workload increased at the law firm and they lost themselves in the drudgery of life for a while, forgetting the happy bliss of just being together. Jamie suggested scheduling date nights, which John found absurd at first, but soon they began to look forward to their evenings out together, their cell phones left behind in a reckless affront to modern life.

Six months ago, they returned from a weekend at Lallybroch with Jamie’s family, his sister’s children running them both ragged. Jamie collapsed on the bed and beckoned John to his side. John settled next to him, draping his leg over Jamie’s as he turned on his side to look at him, tracing the stubble on Jamie’s jaw with his finger.

“You have a scratch on your chin.” John’s hand dropped to Jamie’s chest, rising and falling with his breathing.

“Mmm. Michael decided to show me his new truck by launching it at my face.” Jamie laughed lightly, a smile growing at the memory.

“He’s a spitfire. Clever, too. I imagine you were something like that as a child.”

Jamie turned to his side, dislodging John so they now lie facing each other, just a few inches between them.  His voice was quiet and serious. “We talked about it once, having children. Ye meant what ye said, that ye’d want to be a father someday?”

John’s brows knit together, his heart racing as he read Jamie’s face. “Yes,” he whispered.

Jamie’s lips pressed tightly together and curved upward in a shy smile. “Would ye care to start a family with me now?”

John’s answering smile left no doubt, and he pressed his lips to Jamie’s in a kiss that started off surprised and gleeful then grew deep and hungry. John swung his leg back over Jamie’s and pressed his hips against him.

“Ye ken ye canna actually get me pregnant,” Jamie laughed as John attacked his neck, nipping at his ear lobes.

“I can try.”

* * *

 

The wind gusted against the car as they ascended a hill, less than an hour away from the inn they’d booked. The drive had been quiet, but the tension that had been building at home dissipated as the city fell away behind them. Jamie turned the radio down, the announcer’s voice now a soft murmur with the hum of the tires on the roadway.

“We’ve both been a bit of a mess lately, aye?” Jamie said, his face soft, but his eyes serious. John turned his head and gave a half-smile of apology. “I’ve been thinking why that might be. The adoption assessment, the home visits, the training. It’s no’ easy, but I dinna think we’ve much to worry about. We’ll be approved, I’m certain of it. So, it’s not that.”

John looked back at the road, the sun flickering through tree branches, casting long shadows into the fields. “No, it’s not that.”

Jamie waited for him, waited for the words he sensed were stuck in John’s throat.

“I’m worried I won’t know what to do.”

Jamie let out a breath of relief knowing John was feeling the same thing he was.

Claire had come to them a few weeks ago, showed up at their flat with a bottle of wine, takeout, and a solemn expression.

“She’s young. Twenty. It was… a family member who impregnated her. He’s since died and she’s almost twenty-six weeks now. I had told Mary the two of you were going through the adoption assessment and she told me about the young woman who’d come in thinking perhaps…”

No one spoke for a moment, taking in the gravity of her words, the situation that was not at all what they’d imagined having to consider. John found Jamie’s hand under the table, squeezing tightly in reassurance, that whatever decision they made, it would be as one.

Three weeks later, on a cold and rainy Saturday afternoon, John and Jamie sat in a small cafe across from the young woman who would give birth to their first child.

Jamie turned the car onto a road littered with potholes, and John rested his hand on Jamie’s thigh, tracing the seam of his jeans with his thumb. “I know exactly what ye’re feeling John. Believe me.. But in truth, I dinna think any new parent really kens what to do.”

John nodded. “I know. I know you’re right, but still…” They sat quietly again, but with a new thread strung between them. The graceless acceptance of parents-to-be, that all they could hope for is for fortune to favor them and for their love to be enough.

A small laugh escaped John’s throat, not of humor, but wonder. “When we heard the heartbeat I wanted to clutch that sound to my chest, hold it in my hands and let no one near. It shocked me, that feeling.” Tears stung his eyes and he sucked in a shaky breath.

“Ye’re going to be a wonderful father, John.” Jamie laughed as he spoke, wiping his eyes. “I’ll drive us into the ditch if ye go on, though.”

“Right, sorry.” John squeezed Jamie’s thigh and hummed deep in his throat. Jamie turned on the road leading to the inn and turned on the wipers as the mist turned to a drizzle. “We can’t hide these things anymore, these uncertainties and fears. Once the baby is here…” He trailed off and Jamie glanced at him, nodding.

“Aye. We’ll be knee deep in nappies and bottles to wash. We’ll need to be solid, to trust each other, to let all this out before it tears us apart.”

His words were painfully honest and John felt the weight of them as sure as his wedding vows. He’d come to realize, in their time together, that each day was another renewal of their vows. Honoring, trusting, and cherishing did not sit on a shelf waiting to be called upon. They required replenishment and attention and would turn to dust if forgotten.

Jamie pulled the car to a stop on the gravel outside the inn, the glow of the light outside the entrance illuminating their faces. He took John’s hand in his, their fingers interlocking as one. Solid.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Jamie adjust to life with an infant and decide they need a night away. Smut ensues.

“Jamie, come on. Just put it in your mouth. This is ridiculous.”

John’s impatience was getting the better of him and Jamie shot him a warning look. “Dinna tell me to put it in my mouth. I ken it has to go in my mouth. I’m just… not as comfortable with this as you are, okay? It’s making me gag.”

“Right, well.” John took a step back, realizing Jamie needed some space. That they both needed some space. “Shall I get some tea going?”

“Whisky, if ye please.” Jamie managed an apologetic smile and as John walked away, he tucked his son’s restless limbs in and kissed his damp forehead. “Okay buddy, let’s do this.” He held one end of the Nose Frida to his son’s stuffed nostril and took the other end in his mouth and sucked, trying not to think about what he was drawing toward his mouth. John had assured him repeatedly that the mucous could not get through the foam filter, but the thought of it nevertheless churned his stomach.

Liam jerked his tiny frame at the initial sensation but stilled as his nasal passage was slowly relieved of pressure. Jamie tossed the disgusting, but quite effective device behind him on the bed and vowed to deal with the cleaning of it later. He’d done his part and Liam was already working up a cry of hunger.

Getting him to eat had been a constant struggle in the last week, the poor lad’s head cold making bottle-feeding and breathing concurrently rather difficult, so his mood had been annoyed at the best of times, raging at the worst.

Jamie gathered his son in his arms and patted his back reassuringly while Liam pressed his gooey face into Jamie’s shoulder, the warm drool instantly soaking through his t-shirt. He looked up to find John leaning against the door, a burp rag draped over his shoulder and a warmed bottle in his hand.

“You sure?” Jamie asked, trying not to sound too grateful for the offer.

John stepped forward and pulled Liam away from Jamie, quickly tucking him into his arm and popping the nipple into his mouth before his nose had a chance to clog again. “Do you want to shower before we eat?”

“Mmph. I can take a hint,” Jamie said, already stripping his t-shirt off and heading to the bathroom.

Four months of parenthood had delivered more life lessons than all their previous years combined. Everything they thought they knew of themselves was stripped of any pretensions and adornments, leaving them fragile and battered and humbled.

“It redefines love, doesn’t it? Fatherhood?” John had asked one night, just a few weeks after William was born.

“Aye, that it does. The word doesna seem sufficient.” Jamie had moved his hand over William’s head as he lie sleeping on his chest, his fingers brushing over the soft fuzz in soothing circles.

Jamie had transitioned to spend half of his work hours at home to be with William, whose name they’d shortened to Liam without really discussing it. He, like all first-time parents, imagined he could work and care for the baby, perhaps be really productive while the baby slept. Babies sleep all the time, he’d been told. And it wasn’t that Liam didn’t sleep, but rather that Jamie found himself in something of a fog for the first few months. Waking at night to feed and change him, comforting him, bathing him, changing his clothing more times than he would ever have imagined he’d need to, and getting them both out for walks lest they go completely mad trapped in the flat. This all was the beautiful, relentless work of parenting an infant. And it left no time for work.

“You can’t stay up working every night to catch up on what you missed and then spend the next day taking care of Liam, Jamie. You’re burning out.” John rubbed his face and leaned back against the pillow, noting the dark circles under Jamie’s eyes.

“Maybe it’ll get easier as he gets older. I can push through for a while,” Jamie suggested with little heart behind his words.

John turned on his side to face Jamie and laid his hand on Jamie’s stomach, watching it rise and fall, a boat atop the waves. “If you wanted to, I’d support it. If it’s what you truly want. Don’t think I’m pushing for it if -”

“- ye would?” Jamie interrupted, putting his hand atop John’s.

“Of course I would, Jamie.”

“It’s difficult, ye ken, because ye’re taught from a young age that a man must provide for his family.” Jamie’s voice was strained, uncertain.

“I would say you are providing a great deal more than my paycheck might. Don’t feel one second of guilt for this, Jamie. No one ever regrets the time they spend with their children. If anything, I’m envious.” John pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning down to press a kiss to Jamie’s temple.

“If ye’d rather be the one to stay home, I’d support that. I dinna want to presume.”

“No, it should be you. Leaving the firm would be difficult and I daresay, you have a better temperament for full-time parenting than I do. Certainly more imaginative, at least,” John said as he snuggled in closer to Jamie.

“Christ, ye’d probably read the poor lad cases from yer law books to get him to fall asleep,” Jamie joked, earning himself a slap on the thigh.

“Don’t tease, it works for you.”

Jamie’s new role as full-time dad was not an easy transition, but within a month he’d regained a spring in his step and accumulated a great deal more stained clothes. There still wasn’t time to keep the flat clean but being able to go for walks improved Jamie’s and Liam’s moods enough that they were at least happy amongst their mess.

Liam fell asleep, a stream of milk trailing down his already sticky chin and John deposited him gently in the small crib they kept next to their bed. He found Jamie stretched out on the sofa, soup bowls on the coffee table before him, as he bent over his phone.

“You have your texting face on.”

“Oh shut it, I dinna have a texting face.” Jamie continued typing, then set his phone down with a smile.

“Okay, what’s going on?” John asked, blowing on his soup.

“I was just texting Isobel,” Jamie answered.

“Iz? We’ve got a freezer full of her breast milk. She can’t possibly have more for us already. Honestly, I don’t know how she produces that much.”

“It’s nothing to do with her lactation prowess, John. She’s offered to take Liam for an overnight,” Jamie said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

John raised an inquisitive brow. “Why would we need her to take him?”

Jamie set down his soup and fully turned to John, his eyes dark and serious. “John.”

John stared blankly back for a few seconds until his face rippled with recognition. “Oh. Ohhh. You mean… Adult things.”

“Oh, aye. I mean adult things.”

“As soon as Liam is healthy, I presume?”

Jamie leaned forward until his mouth was nearly touching the flushed tip of John’s ear. “The very second he is healthy, I plan to have ye alone in a room, just the two of us, and I have considered all manner of things I intend to do to ye.”

One week later, John stood in the doorway to Isobel and Hannah’s flat, dropping one last kiss on Liam’s head before handing him over for the night.

“It is beyond kind of you to do this, Iz,” John said, genuinely grateful for all she’d done for them.

“Well, I can’t resist this handsome lad, as you know. And I’d be lying if I said it was entirely selfless. Hannah has been harassing me about having another and I’m hoping this will tide her over for a bit.”

John looked at her skeptically.

“Oh God, this is just going to make it worse, isn’t it?” Isobel’s eyes grew comically large and she swallowed a laugh.

“Too late, no take-backs!” John gave her a quick peck on the cheek and brushed his knuckle over the spit bubbles gathered in the corners of Liam’s lips. “Thank you! See you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye, John! Try to show Jamie a good time!”

John wasn’t quite sure what Jamie had planned, but as he walked into their flat, he was not expecting to find Jamie standing just inside the door, his jacket on, and an overnight bag in his hand. “Are we going somewhere?"

“I dinna think I can properly clear my mind and pay ye the attention ye deserve wi’ pacifiers and burp cloths in my periphery. So aye, we’ll be goin’ somewhere.” Jamie held John’s jacket open for him and dropped a kiss on his neck. “Let’s go.”

Jamie pulled the car into the guest spot and shut off the engine, leaving them under the dim glow of the light outside the rear entrance to an ornate and imposing home. John turned to him, shocked. “Charlie’s place? Jamie, you hate Charlie.”

“I dinna hate him. Strongly dislike, more-like,” Jamie answered casually as he reached for the bag in the back seat.

“Dear god, you didn’t promise him a blow job in exchange for the use of his house, did you?” John said, moving swiftly around the front of the car to catch up to Jamie’s long stride.

Jamie punched a series of numbers on the security pad until it beeped, and the lock released. “Och, no. Just a hand job.”

“Oh, good.”

Charlie’s house was simultaneously elegant and ostentatious, dark wood paneled walls and heavy curtains suddenly giving way to explosions of bright red tartan fabric sofas. It was precisely as proud and ridiculous as its owner.

John hooked a finger through Jamie’s belt loop as they ascended the stairs to the top level where the master bedroom and bathroom occupied the entire space. Jamie’s steps slowed as they walked into the room and John gave a little tug on his pants. “Well, this will do nicely.”

John wrapped his arms around Jamie from behind, squeezing him until he felt Jamie’s body begin to relax. Despite Jamie’s talk, despite the swagger and teasing, he knew what he really needed. Jamie had spent the last four months giving all of himself to care for Liam and manage their household, a million tiny decisions every day falling on him. He needed someone else to take control, if just for a night.

Jamie hummed as John’s hands moved up his chest. “Put down the bag and take your clothes off, Jamie.”

Without turning around, Jamie did as John said, tossing everything to the floor at his feet, his fingers nervously dancing against his thighs, waiting for John’s next instruction. John removed his own clothing and stood just close enough that he could feel the heat rolling off Jamie’s body, but not quite touching.

“Christ, will ye touch me already?” Jamie asked, his breath coming quicker.

“Patience,” John said, walking slowly around Jamie and bending over the overnight bag. He could feel Jamie’s eyes on him, hear the hitches in his breath, but made no move to look at him. Instead he unzipped the bag and began to pull out the objects Jamie had packed. “Lube, obvious choice. Massage oil, nice. I could use a massage. Plugs, two different sizes. In-ter-es-ting. Vibrator. Is this new?” He finally turned to Jamie, who was biting back a grin.

“Mmm, delivered yesterday. Havena tried it yet,” Jamie said, his lips twitching.

John stood and turned fully to Jamie, his gaze traveling slowly over Jamie’s body. The air in the room seemed to still, growing heavy and warm. “Come here.”

Jamie approached John, holding himself back until John spoke again. “I know you said you had plans for me, but I think they will have to wait until I am finished with you.” John leaned forward until Jamie’s cock pressed fully against his stomach, their breaths suddenly coming quick.

“I can wait,” Jamie rasped in reply.

John slowly began kissing Jamie’s chest, his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, his ear while Jamie’s hands roamed, fingers pressing into John’s back, urging him closer, pressing into the curve of his lower back. Finally, their lips met, hungry for each other, remembering what it was like to kiss with abandon, to lazily explore and greedily devour. Remembering what it was like to taste one another.

They turned together until John gently pushed Jamie against the bed, urging him back. He ran his hands up Jamie’s thighs, the muscles twitching under his touch. When his hands rested on Jamie’s hips, John lowered his mouth and drew his tongue slowly up the underside of Jamie’s cock, drawing the tip into his mouth, smiling at the fingers clutching the bedding. He sucked on him for a few more seconds, then ran his tongue back down the shaft. Jamie lifted his hips slightly, anticipating John’s next move.

“Christ, John.” Jamie laughed and groaned, the feeling of his balls in John’s mouth almost too much. He loved the fight to steady himself against the onslaught of sensation.

John pulled away and the cool air jolted him from his pleasure. He lay still, eyes closed, letting John control the moment, waiting for his next move. Jamie relaxed his legs as John pushed them up and apart. A second later, Jamie gasped as the cool, slick end of the plug pressed into him slowly, just as John’s lips closed over his nipple, teeth scraping.

Jamie grasped John’s shoulders and pulled him up, attacking his mouth, desperately pressing his hips upward. Their bodies tangled together in a rush of desire, hands and lips endlessly seeking more. John’s cock strained against Jamie’s and they both began to lose the fight to take things slow. John peeled Jamie’s hands away and pressed them to the mattress above his head, drawing a deep kiss from him, trapping Jamie’s lower lip between his teeth until Jamie yanked his head away. He pulled his hands free and grasped John’s ass.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” John asked, his arms shaking.

Jamie wrapped his hand around the base of John’s neck and answered with a quick nod of his head. His body held in position, waiting impatiently for John. The release of the plug’s pressure sent a shot of desire through him, that sudden emptiness desperately needing to be filled. John answered before Jamie could make a sound, sliding into him with an agonizing slowness that drew guttural moans from both of them. The room soon filled with their sounds, skin slick with sweat colliding and breaths coming quicker.

“John. Now.”

John grasped Jamie’s cock in his hand, pumping it in time with his own movements. The feel of Jamie’s release erupting beneath his palm sent him over the edge as well and he drove himself once more into him, crying out. Mouths fell upon each other once more, smiling and sated.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

In the next few hours they showered, demolished a bowl of guacamole, kissed while pressed against the fridge, accidentally shooting ice cubes onto John’s back, forgot about a half-finished sudoku puzzle mangled under the sheets of round two, endured a two-minute panic when they couldn’t find the vibrator that had been kicked under the bed, and finally drifted to sleep with the glow of fading embers from the fireplace, flickering shadows over their faces.

“I forgot to put extra nappy covers in Liam’s bag,” Jamie said drowsily into the pillow, fingers still drawing lazy patterns on John’s chest.

“They won’t need them. They probably have some they can use. They are mothers after all,” John answered with a smile, eyes falling shut as the wind rattled the windows.

Jamie hummed in response. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
